Chapter Text
In the short time that Dowoon and Wonpil talked, Wonpil learned some details of the harvest ceremony, especially the one who requested it.
He knew it was impossible for his father to oppose the duke of Valhenquoal – a member of his father’s council, the Lord of Coin, and the duke of the wealthiest duchy in the whole empire, and the one who suggested for reinstatement of the harvest ceremony – as the imperial family had always been walking on eggshells around him. Although, if the duke had presented his one and only son to be his husband, Wonpil would marry, no questions asked, into the Valhenquoals.
“Father also told me that since preparations for the ceremony will start right after your father stamps a seal on paper—”
“When will that be?”
“I think they are already accepting petitions to revisit the approval, but since Valhenquoal suggested for the reinstatement of the harvest ceremony, no one dares object it.”
“Of course,” Wonpil replied, frowning. Valhenquoals are a storm to be reckoned with, but if Wonpil will let the duke be, then their debts will double this year. “I’m sure the duke will not stop at the harvest ceremony.”
“He profits off of the imperial festivities. Of course, he won’t stop after one success,” Dowoon sighed and drank from his cup, his eyes dark with hate. “What are you thinking?”
“We should write a petition,” Wonpil replied, almost immediately, and Dowoon nodded like he expected the answer. If he sent it now, then a small council meeting with the petitioner will commence in three days.
Apart from doing some work into building his defense, the most unbearable thing should be begging for Sungjin to stay for a few more days, which was, in Wonpil’s opinion, easier than watching Valhenquoal abusing his power again.
“How about your father? Should you convince him?”
“I doubt that he’ll ignore this. He would surely pin this on me alone,” Dowoon looked at him with pity, but Wonpil waved him off. “He could never directly oppose the duke. We both know it. Besides, it’s true that I’m going to write without his knowledge.”
“Right,” Dowoon replied, still doubtful. “Then I’ll sign and submit it before we go.”
“Go… go? Where will we…?”
“We, meaning father and I, sorry,” Dowoon spoke slowly, as if contemplating something. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that I am needed in Thal, but we kept talking about something else,” he was smiling but Wonpil could see the sadness and worry in his eyes.
Thal was one of the places in Hedros most devastated by drought, and so it needed the watchful eyes of the lords. Dowoon was doing his best for solutions, despite being in the capital almost all the time, but the solutions have yet to arrive. It was hard, apparently, to look for solutions concerning the drought and the growing famine.
Bile rose up from Wonpil's stomach, threatening to come out of his mouth. He looked away and breathed, trying to calm himself down. Did the fire reach the castle? Was his younger brothers and sister safe? The hounds he kept and was very fond of?
“Is it bad back home?” He asked in the end, looking back and meeting Dowoon’s gaze. He couldn't contemplate how much Dowoon has lost right now, with just a few words. Dowoon shrugged, trying to keep his own worry from reaching out and affecting Wonpil more.
“I don't know. Father has gotten word that we need to go home so she could assess the recent forest fire. It happens a lot in this season, given the heat,” Dowoon added, maybe seeing Wonpil's worry. He had heard all of Dowoon's stories about the Thal, his hometown. It rested south of the capital and just north of Valhenleer's—some desolate valley with a dying river and a count who hated his family for some reason he didn't know—border. Thal was home to a lot of animals, trees and bushes, as Dowoon had said. He said the duchy's castle stood just behind the lush green of the forest, above some kind of hill, and people believed it was something Hedr had built as a promise that the land would be protected forever. They said it still glowed gold at night, sometimes, like the ones that they were living in now. Dowoon never saw it personally, but he said a lot of people did.
It would have been marvelous if Wonpil could visit at least once, but since he isn't married yet, he couldn't go with some alpha to some place so far from the capital, even if it was just Dowoon.
“When will you leave?”
“Later,” he replied. “It should be like the past fires, but I still don't know why father needs me.”
“I hope it isn't as bad as we think,” Wonpil's answer was rigid, but he couldn't help but worry. Dowoon offered a smile.
“You never have to worry about it. I exist for this.”
“I know you could solve it, but if you needed money...”
“I'm sure father would ask,” Dowoon replied instantly. “But we understand the situation, unlike some count down there.”
“Are you implying—”
“I am not implying anyone in particular,” he replied, but a soft, I know you know what I mean smile on his lips. Wonpil smiled back, and then sighed.
“Will you write to me?”
“Yes, of course,” Dowoon poured more tea into his cup, as effortlessly as his answer.
Wonpil sighed once more, trying to ease out of worry for the alpha. He wouldn’t send Dowoon away burdened by his fears, so he tried to bury them away and started, “I guess I would ask Gyro to borrow some imperial records.”
“Or you could ask your betrothed for another favor,” Wonpil scowled at Dowoon’s teasing, now the soft smile sprawled largely across his face. “What? Your father wants you to stay until the ceremony, anyway.”
“My father knew my wedding would happen before the ceremony. He knew his wish was a futile attempt to keep Sungjin.”
“But I am sure you’re going to ask the emperor to stay.”
“Or I might ask him to go without me,” Wonpil replied, to which Dowoon raised an eyebrow. “I have some hours to think, anyway.” He motioned for paper and quill, and some ink, and one of the servants hastily brought them.
“Just don’t spend too much time thinking,” Dowoon told him, and then finally allowed him to write in peace.
Wonpil tried so hard to think about the conversation he will have with Sungjin. Dowoon was already gone, bearing their petition so he could give it to the council before he could leave. He was thankful he had Dowoon who could understand him, given the huge difference in their designations. Sometimes he wished Dowoon to be his husband—maybe life in Thal could be bearable after all—since they were friends since he could even remember. He never had romantic feelings for the man, he knew it, but they said friendship surely helps in marriage. He could ask for Dowoon on most things like they were nothing and he knew Dowoon would do them to the best of his power, because they will always be on the same path, same framework of the mind, unlike the intended alpha for him. He would dare to ask, at least ask first if they could stay for the ceremony—even if he didn’t have any intentions to let the damned ceremony to happen—as ploy, he would ask like always had with anyone despite their designation, but he knew talking to Sungjin would use a lot of courage and Wonpil would never know how the alpha would react.
And he knew, in front of Sungjin, all the courage that he would muster would be gone. He didn't know why he felt vulnerable and weak at the sight of him— or was it that all omegas react to him like that? — so he tried to prolong it. At least for an hour since Dowoon left, he walked round and round the garden back in his residence, and still he could feel his nerves were about to explode. His heart hammered at the thought of just asking for something so simple as staying for an event that would never happen, and it kind of infuriated him.
But if the alpha didn’t want to, then Wonpil has no choice but to go. But first, he must think of another solution. Maybe call for someone's help, but since Dowoon would be indispensable in Thal, then who else?
He couldn’t think of anyone, and so he started looking for words that would make the alpha agree. He could offer himself, if the situation gets dire. He couldn’t see the point of the alpha not welcoming his naked body into his room, since they’d be married anyway—
Wonpil shuddered, not knowing exactly how he ended up in that direction. Seeing himself naked in someone’s else’s chambers, probably taunted and humiliated, surely used, made him feel as if something cold rushed in him, making him want to hurl his breakfast out. He hugs himself instead, not feeling the warmth of the sun that stubbornly shone above him.
But it wasn’t impossible of a thought. Sungjin might really have forced him to do that, the easy, mocking smile on his face was so clear in his head. He didn’t know what Sungjin felt about him, never once stopped to know. Since he saw Sungjin in that dance hall, years ago, staring back at him like he was made of gold, he thought to himself that the man was someone dangerous. And then he became a trembling mess in front of him—it was a surprise even to himself that he completed a dance—the smell of blood and earth lingering around the alpha, suffocating him, and knew right then and there that there was nothing good about being close to him.
But then, despite that and his other fears, and it may be faint, but somehow deep, deep down, Wonpil knew that Sungjin would agree, if he said the right words. Wonpil could be pretty persuasive sometimes. And somehow, he knew the alpha would never do anything to him, unprompted. Wonpil could see people eye to eye sometimes, so he knew who to avoid. That one time was an exception, and he would like to think that Sungjin was not like them.
When he decided he was done moping about something he could never control, he started walking to where Sungjin was staying. The Main Hall sat east of the Hall of the Heirs, somewhere in the far middle of everything. It was the tallest castle the capital ever had, the first castle that Hedr had built from the stones that he had rained down from the sky and his descendants—all alphas—had helped him in shaping the stones, or so as they said. It was considered the most sacred building, apart from the temples, as it was the residence of the emperor then and now, and now a temporary residence of Sungjin too.
He stopped by the door, a fist up, ready to knock. He contemplated if he should knock now, so early in the morning. Maybe the alpha was still asleep, or on a walk outside. Maybe he didn’t want to see Wonpil after last night. Maybe—
The door opened, and then, suddenly, the emperor was in front of him.
• • •
After a sleepless night, Sungjin tried to distract himself by picking at his breakfast. When it didn’t help, he went back to his room so he could bask in the sun by the window. Zeren was cold even during summer, so he didn’t enjoy going out much, aside from… well, when they had to chase off some outsiders and during a war. When he was younger, he and Younghyun would attend banquets, but since his father died, everybody just assumed the brothers were too old and busy for it. It was true, he had a ton of paperwork in the castle anyway, and that meant he had no choice but to stay.
Before he could go back to his chambers, he was greeted by a man, obviously an alpha who had some power in the country, with all the adornments and a suit that maybe cost a few gold. Even the emperor wore less of it, Sungjin thought to himself.
“Who…” he tried to ask and the man bowed his head, his stout body betraying him.
“Your Majesty, I’m the duke of Valhenquoal, at your service.”
“Valhenquoal,” Sungjin echoed. He was familiar with the land, as it was a Hedran duchy closest to Zeren. They shared almost the same climate, since Valhenquoal was warmer, and maybe some fertile lands, but that was it. He could sense something vile with the way the duke acted around him, like he was just there because it would benefit him. Sungjin frowned.
“I am very delighted to finally meet you,” he said. Sungjin raised a brow.
“I believe I visited the country some years ago.”
“Yes, but ah… I didn’t have a chance then,” the duke stopped, and then smiled, some of his yellowing teeth showing. “I would like to thank you for your endless support.”
“Support?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I knew you would support the empire once you are married to the prince,” he clapped his hands to look delighted, but his voice was smug, almost mocking. Sungjin didn’t know if it was him or the prince that the duke was mocking, but surely it was one or both of them. Either way, he clenched his fist, suddenly aware of the anger rising up. “Valhenquoal thanks you for your generosity, but I should ask, why are you interested in Hedros? The capital had no resources—”
“I thank you for the warm welcome, Duke, but I should retire for the morning. I shall talk to you another time,” Sungjin gave him a tight smile and walked off, but the duke insisted on talking even when he started to walk away, inviting him for dinner. Sungjin pretended not to hear him and went straight to his room, barred the door, and made his way to the balcony.
He closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun, and decided that it was still too early to visit Wonpil in his residence.
Maybe before luncheon would do. He could go, ask if he wanted to have a meal together, hope the omega would agree. He would love to have a conversation with him, some easy ones, even if easy never comes in his vocabulary. Wonpil would probably take interest in politics, and it made Sungjin smile.
Now that’s a conversation, he perked up. The omega may seem like he was housed and never cared about the way things work around, just submissive to his family, like some omegas he knew, but Sungjin knew the prince was nothing like he first thought he was.
He knew Wonpil was uncomfortable around him. He knew, from the whispers of the servants and butlers that roam around the castle, that the prince didn’t take the news of marriage in good light. He knew he hated him—he never wanted Wonpil to hate him, but it was clear and it made him mad of himself—because of the things he said to him last night, and still he stayed. He was willing to marry him despite everything, and even when the question about the lands was quite infuriating, it was also surprising. That meant Wonpil cared a lot about Hedros, he was willing to leave to save it.
He will apologize to him, and that was sure. He didn’t want Wonpil to think that he was in it for the lands. He wanted to explain how he felt a bond with him, and that was important for him and maybe for Zeren too, but he didn’t want Wonpil to share the burden of the country he wasn’t even born into. Hedros already has a lot.
When he saw the shadows of the bushes below changed, he decided he could go out and finally talk to Wonpil. It was supposed to be easy, but right now, he was thinking that dealing with the omega needed a bit more patience.
He opened the door, and to his surprise, Wonpil was there. His fist was positioned as if he was about to knock in time of Sungjin opening the door. Wonpil looked as surprised as him, his soft, brown eyes were large.
“Your Highness?” Sungjin initiated, and Wonpil stepped back, almost instinctively, and looked at the tiled floor guiltily. Sungjin breathed, wishing the omega didn’t take that step.
“Oh, you're here,” He replied as if he didn’t expect Sungjin to be there. Sungjin steps forward, to Wonpil, and then the omega flinched, his back hunched. He didn’t know what made him on edge, but Sungjin thought it wasn’t the time to ask just yet.
“It's my room, Your Highness,” Sungjin replied instead as he closed the door behind him. “What brought you here?”
“I, uhm,” he hesitated, “Do you... perhaps... Do we really need to go tomorrow?” He stared at Wonpil. There was something vulnerable about the question, like he didn’t want to go. And he stood there, some panic rising up. What if Wonpil tells him he wanted to break the engagement? What if— “I mean, with the ceremony coming up, and with my father’s wish of staying,” he continued, and Sungjin didn’t know what to feel. He felt like he wanted to thank Wonpil, but also felt sorry for him. He felt rage, but it was for himself, for doing it to Wonpil when the omega clearly didn’t want him.
He constantly told himself that everything was well, and that he will try to at least be friendly to Wonpil. He felt guilty, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. After all, it was because of him that Wonpil was angry.
“Yes,” Sungjin replied in the end, “but I heard it will be happening by the end of the full moon. Since our marriage—” the comment made Wonpil’s body stiff. Wonpil let it go after a blink, but still, Sungjin could see it all, and that made him stop. “Well, we could definitely come back to celebrate it.”
“No,” Wonpil replied abruptly and then nervously glanced at both sides of the hallway. No one was there, Sungjin was sure, as he followed the prince's gaze, inhaled the air and listened to the sound of any rustle. “No, I don't like to celebrate it.” Wonpil continued when he was confident that no one was listening.
“Then, what is it that concerns you?”
“I, uhm...” Wonpil started stuttering again. Sungjin didn’t know how to deal with it—he never saw an omega as scared at him, like Wonpil was. He didn’t know why—it that how he reacts to the bond? But omegas weren’t supposed to feel it, not after the claiming. “Your Majesty, I hope we can stay. Just for three more days, I promise.”
“Why?” He asked. Wonpil was so different from yesterday, in a way. He was talking to him, asking for things. Asking. Wonpil’s pride must’ve been hurt, Sungjin thought, and he must’ve been angrier at him, but Sungjin didn’t care. He was eager to make the conversation longer, to listen to his soft, lulling voice, and make Wonpil’s request come true.
Wonpil glanced up at him, and then, for a while, contemplated the answer. Sungjin almost cursed—of course, he was something personal. “I didn't mean to intrude, Wonpil. I'm sorry,” he finally said after a moment. Wonpil's eyes stayed on him, surprised and then quizzical, like he grew another head. “But you should tell me if there is a problem.”
“There is none, Your Majesty,” he replied, finally exhaling. “I've sent a petition in Dowoon's name—”
“The General Thal's son?”
Sungjin gulped a nervous chuckle. He started to feel something now, a pang of something. Jealousy maybe, something that was so similar to what he felt when he learned of Wonpil and Younghyun’s little rendezvous. He wanted to leave and hunt for Dowoon—the moon god knew he had plans for Younghyun too—or just hug Wonpil there and tell him he was his.
“Yes,” Wonpil nodded, unaware of the rush of feelings that he was fighting to stay in him, “I asked to reconsider the approval of the harvest ceremony.”
“Why?” He asked again. Now this was something he thought Wonpil could share, and he could listen to with a clear mind.
“It's… Well, I know we couldn’t afford it, so the council would take up a loan, and I know someone would abuse that money, making the festivity as a reason.”
“That’s why you wanted it stopped.”
“Yes,” he replied, now his tensed body started to slack. “It would be the start yet again, if I don’t stop it. The gods might feel rage, but they are the least of my cares. If they continue to make people like Valhenquoal prosper and continue to ignore the hunger my people feel, then I guess they don’t have any right to accept such a ceremony.”
Sungjin smiled. He liked how rebellious the omega was, how his soft voice cursed the gods. Yes, the gods should be forgotten if their promise faltered.
“We could spend a few more days here,” he said finally, and Wonpil looked up again, a smile on his face. The soft rays of the sun made him glow—made him more beautiful. Sungjin could kiss him there, but he stopped himself. “Well, do you need more of my help?”
“Well...” Wonpil hesitated, “since you initiated it… Can you access Hedran records for me?”
“What?”
“If you could do that, then your help would be vast.”
“But, can you not do that on your own?” Sungjin decided he should be cautious. He knew some things about Hedros, the power the alphas hold over omegas, but it was a public record that Wonpil would need. His family’s record.
“There are so many things an omega can’t do in this country.”
“Including requesting for records of your own country?”
“We are not expected to read, much more contemplate what the meaning of the text that we have read.” Wonpil shrugged, and Sungjin could feel his vulnerability again. Wonpil was so good at hiding it, it was gone before Sungjin could even realize what it was. “I think it would be hard for me to borrow those what I need.”
“Do you think they would lend those papers to me?”
“You are an alpha, regardless of where you were born.” He explained. Sungjin nodded slowly, despite not really understanding what it should mean.
“Then I think I could help you with it.” He replied. He didn’t know what Wonpil thought of him now—he realized it didn’t matter. What mattered was he could be of help, and seeing Wonpil lost the stiffness of his shoulders and some trembling of his knees.
“Would you… well,” Wonpil started after an awkward pause, “would you like to go with me?”
“Of course,” Sungjin's smile was easy, as well as his agreement. He found himself wondering if this would be him every day, if Wonpil was around. “But where?”
“The deliberation, which will be in three days. But lunch for now, if you want.”
“I would love to,” He smiled, and then followed Wonpil like a dog.
He didn’t mind.
• • •
“The next concern to be discussed is the upcoming harvest ceremony,” The Lord of Coin, duke of Valhenquoal informed. “I would hate to inform, but for it to be possible, we would be needing a loan.”
“Then, why do we need to proceed when we don’t have the money?” Wonpil timidly asked.
Wonpil has always imagined himself being in front of a council, listening to their whims and screaming at their faces for not doing their jobs properly, but now that he sat there for the first time in his life, it was as if he never had a voice.
Each looked at him with contempt, except the general and duchess of Thal, Dowoon's father and Sungjin. Sungjin looked at him like he was somehow proud of him—Wonpil didn’t know why, didn’t understand his behavior—but the general looked at him with pity, something he didn't need at the moment. His father was absent, too busy to pick a side. Wonpil didn’t care, as long as he accepted his petition with ease.
“Because, my Prince,” Valhenquoal replied, the way he pronounced the words were slow, as if Wonpil was someone short of understanding simple sentences, “the emperor commanded it.”
Wonpil was so sure it wasn’t a command. His father approved of it, yes, but it doesn’t mean that it was final. As long as four of six council members signed a petition refuting an approval before the day of decreeing, it won’t proceed.
And so, he expected Valhenquoal, considering he had to manage the empire’s gold, would at least think about it—where the money would come, and if it comes, would it be appropriate to spend that much. Everyone knew that it was because of the increase of starving subjects that the emperor decided to stop the harvest ceremony for two years. There was nothing to harvest anyway, so why the ceremony?
But alas, Valhenquoal was too happy to finally spend large amounts of money in the name of the empire. Now Wonpil wondered if he was the one who suggested it. He was someone his father cannot go against anyway, since he was the one producing the most crops, paying the largest taxes.
They needed his money.
“The return will not be as bad too, Your Highness,” Head of the Lords and the duke of Malkim added with a soft smile that Wonpil realized was not real. “A gathering this huge would make an amass of money. I am sure merchants will gather around, like the last time.”
“Agreed,” Valhenquoal’s hand turned into fist as he hit the table, his eyes gleaming with glee, “I hate to tell the council, but I was distraught when the emperor ordered to ban festivities.”
“Here, here,” the others cheered as if the ceremony was already there. Sungjin was still sitting there, eyes at them, smiling but never really talking. Wonpil wondered if he was with the council. But then, he helped him in so many ways during those three days before the meeting, so maybe not. Sungjin’s eyes wandered back to him after a moment, too easy to read, silently telling him, your move, Your Highness.
“Where do you propose to get the loan, my lord?” Wonpil asked next. Valhenquoal answered a bank he didn’t know where, but he noted so he could look for it later.
“Or maybe we could propose a loan now, to His Majesty,” Valhenquoal continued and bowed at Sungjin. Sungjin’s smile was instantly wiped off from his lips.
“How do you propose to me, Duke?” He asked, his body leaning towards the table, as if he was willing to listen. Wonpil knew he shouldn’t feel it, but he could feel the betrayal. After the help he did, the suggestions he told so he could ease the discussion, the company they shared in three days, Wonpil thought Sungjin understood this particular endeavor of his. But he was seriously considering lending money?
“We wish the loan to last for five years, with the lowest interest,” he added, smiling.
“For how much, Duke?”
“We will base it on the funding two years ago. I hope that will suffice.” The duke passed a record of the funding last year, and Sungjin studied it, ignoring Wonpil’s glares and silent curses.
“Surely the empire will profit from this?” Sungjin asked. If Wonpil could throw daggers at him now, he would. But the emperor didn’t even spare a glance.
You dared, Wonpil wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to ask something you already knew? We studied the records together!
“We hope it will be the average of profits for the last five years.” Malkim answered easily, but did not produce a record to pass to Sungjin.
And then, it dawned him. Sungjin was still helping.
“It isn’t ‘amass,’ then,” Wonpil told them with a slight smile. “There were no profits for the last five years, I gathered. We lost at least one in ten thousand gold two years ago. Three years ago, we lost one in thirty thousand. Five years ago, we lost one in fifteen thousand.” Wonpil passed around the records confidently. Sungjin took it, his eyes shining with pride. Wonpil looked away after a glance, suddenly feeling hot.
“Well—”
“This is something we cannot take lightly, don’t you think?” Interrupted almost immediately without even knowing who spoke. “We have hungry mouths to feed, and winter is near. We have yet to evaluate the crops our land has produced, if it will produce. There are reports from the south that the land the farmers tend will render useless by next year. I spoke with the count Valhenleer about this.” Wonpil let himself breathe slowly and think of his next words. “I sit here in this council to convince you, my lords and ladies, to sign my petition to refute the emperor’s approval of the harvest ceremony.”
“But, how can we refute a command—”
“I must remind you that this matter is yet to be a command and the decree still lacks the emperor’s seal. Now, I am asking, will you let the emperor decree something that will bring the empire into more debt and will subject more of its people to starvation and death?”
“Death is inevitable…”
Wonpil stared at the duke Malkim with disgust. He just couldn’t hide it. How could he say it to the people he was supposed to look after? How could he say their deaths were inevitable, when clearly there was something he could do about it?
“Allow me to say something, but have you heard of the Rebellion of the Soils?” Sungjin asked, his fingers touching his wine glass. “It was one of the noteworthy rebellions in the past century, so I hope you have heard of it.”
“One of those failed rebellions, for all I know,” Malkim replied. “What about it?”
“The rebellion started when half of Soilworth’s population had nothing to eat and began to notice the lavishness of the capital. And Duke Malkim, the resistance didn’t fail,” Sungjin cast a smile on Malkim, and then continued. “Upon the end of the rebellion started the War of the Greens. If you still don’t know, it was the war for the next king of Soilworth, a war between one from the long line of alpha kings against his father’s general, who was named emperor by the same people who were starving and learned to fight. That war lasted for seven years, not including the two years of resistance.”
“We’re not here for a history lesson, Your Majesty.”
“I am saying, history repeats itself. I am saying it could happen to Hedros too.” He shrugged, his lips forming the littlest of frowns. Then he glanced at Wonpil, urging him to continue.
“Rebellions are not in my mind, for I believe my father won’t let his people starve more than they already are. But I would lie if I do not think that it is a possibility should this continue. This act of lavishness of the capital will be deemed unfair, and I don’t want to see our people looking at us with rage and unsheathing blades to our throats.”
“Hear, hear,” General Thal raised a glass. “It will be a headache and a heartache to kill our people just to protect the throne.”
“Hear, hear,” Wonpil heard another duke, raising a glass. “Expect my sign on the petition, Your Highness.”
Wonpil exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding as he saw more hands in the air. Sungjin was smiling at him, to which he returned, even if there was still something he couldn’t make of. Sungjin somehow still scared him, especially when he was not mad, but he was too grateful to ignore him.
Still, he would never expect them to continue their budding friendship—gods, if Wonpil could even call it that. Maybe he would later pay the price of his help, but he wouldn’t let it spoil whatever he was feeling at the moment. The council meeting was a success, at least on his side, and he felt a swelling pride on himself.
For the first time in his life, he felt like he could finally stand tall.